


ᐃᓄᑐᐊᖅ

by Helasdottir



Series: Beluga Mermen [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arctic, Alternate Universe - Merfolk, HCMM20, Other, Selkies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27140717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helasdottir/pseuds/Helasdottir
Summary: A powerful storm hit the open sea. It drove Connor’s pod from their usual migratory path and forced them to seek shelter in shallow pools by the shore, to hide from the wind and waves behind a barrier of gray rocks. They could have avoided the violent currents by swimming up the coast in shallow waters, but it posed too large a risk.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Series: Beluga Mermen [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981102
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	ᐃᓄᑐᐊᖅ

**Author's Note:**

> Story written for and published in the HankCon Mermay 2020 Zine ♡
> 
> Glossary  
>  _Natsivak_ – hooded seal  
>  _Inutuaq_ – alone / a lone person  
>  _Qallunaat_ – people who are not Inuit  
>  _Isumagijunnairvigivinga?_ – do you forgive me?

A powerful storm hit the open sea. It drove Connor’s pod from their usual migratory path and forced them to seek shelter in shallow pools by the shore, to hide from the wind and waves behind a barrier of gray rocks. They could have avoided the violent currents by swimming up the coast in shallow waters, but it posed too large a risk.

Connor and his brothers knew what choosing the shore pools meant when they made the decision. The area with calmer waters and good shelter from the violent winds coming from the ocean was notoriously unfriendly to merfolk, guarded by an odd territorial _natsivak_ who ignored his kind’s preference for deeper waters in favor of nearly land-bound seclusion. The _inutuaq_ seal. They would need this creature’s permission to use his shallows to wait out the storm, and so Connor was chosen to negotiate.

He finds the man seated on a rock formation at the edge of the water, his seal-skin peeled back to drape over his shoulders as he works open a conch. Before Connor can voice a greeting, a loud and drawn-out growl warns him not to approach any further. 

“Do you have a death wish or are you just stupid?”

“Neither.” Connor’s answer is flat and clearly more confrontational than he needs to be, emphasized by the fact he swims forward to rest on a rock that only just breaches the water. It’s easier to hold himself above the surface with more support than only his muscles, which are tired and aching after a difficult swim away from troubled waters. “My name is Connor, and I’ve come to ask a favor.”

“I’m gonna give you one chance to take that back and swim away. You’d better take it and fuck off.” There’s a cracking sound to accentuate the seal-man’s words, and Connor sees him working a shiny tool into the conch to pull out the meat.

Pride tells Connor to match his unwilling host’s attitude, to fight for his pod’s safety with the same ferocity that gave him the scars on his otherwise sleek white tail. He taps his fingers restlessly on the rock below, wishing for something to busy his hands with. This is not the time for pride, not if he wants to minimize the chances of having to travel during the storm.

“Please.” The word is so foreign it’s nearly painful. “I would not insist on this if it weren’t a matter of life and death. I don’t mean to challenge your territory; I only ask for safe harbor from the storm. My pod is-“

“Save the sob story. I haven’t seen a sign saying this is a hotel, and there’s plenty of coastline still clear of the storm. You can take your bullshit somewhere else.”

Some of the seal-man’s words are unfamiliar to Connor. He tilts his head slightly to the right, rising further above the water by having his dorsal fin breach the surface. His tailfin undulates with the push and pull of the tide, and he bites back an angry quip.

“The coastline isn’t safe,” he says instead, reminding himself why he was chosen. Between his brothers, he’s the most likely to keep a level head under stress. “There are land-dwellers, _qallunaat_ who would harm us, and there is a calf in our pod.”

The last sentence gives the seal-man pause, and Connor can only hope he’s making progress. During a tense moment of silence, the empty conch is tossed into the water and they both watch it sink beneath the rippling of gentle waves. It helps Connor take note of how the wind is changing, shifting directions. A glance back to the horizon confirms that the dark clouds are growing closer.

“Please,” he insists, making a conscious effort not to grit his teeth. “If you can’t grant us harbor as a favor, there must be something I can do in return. I only ask for shelter until the storm passes.”

“Something you can do.” There’s another pause, and Connor’s tailfin rises and splashes down once in his impatience. “Sure, there’s something you can do for me.”

It’s clear from the seal-man’s tone, a perfect balance of irritation and mockery, that he will propose something extremely laborious. This time Connor’s pride works to his advantage, giving him the confidence – or arrogance – he needs to accept his host’s price: to find and recover a locket within the next year.

It will take him off the migration path for the year, away from his pod, and he will need to count on Nines and Sixty to protect the others in his absence. At the moment, bringing them into calm waters seems worth the long-term price, particularly when Alice presses close to her mother’s side to shelter from the wind.

Hank, as the seal-man is called, allows them to have free range of the natural pools in his small territory. Instead of joining them in the water, he wears his pelt as clothing and walks up the beach to a small house, where he remains by himself.

This is in part because sleeping in a human bed, covered by blankets and his own pelt, Hank won’t feel the biting cold. It’s how he justifies it, at least, when the sight of Connor’s pod becomes too painful to stomach.

He is woken twice by the sound of thunder so loud it shakes his windows. Hank will never admit to the pang of guilt he feels at the thought of what might have happened had he turned the pod of merfolk away, made them brave the dangerous travel north in this violent weather.

The following morning is gray and dark, with steady rainfall and far less elements of a full-blown electric storm. Hank knows from experience that the sea will take longer to calm than the sky, and so he grants his guests verbal permission to stay until it’s safe for their dark-tailed calf to brave ocean currents.

When the storm fully clears, it’s no surprise to find the shore pools empty. He doesn’t expect to see Connor again, knowing the quest he sent him on is hopeless. Cole had been wearing his locket when he was taken. It wouldn’t surprise Hank if it had been swallowed along with him. There’s no reason to dwell on the merman or his promise, and so he files it away in the dark corner of his mind where all of those bad memories are kept. Safe. Out of sight.

Life goes on, in the same way it has for years. Hank dons his seal skin to search for food or bask in the sunlight, and at night retires to his home in human form to hide his shame in a bottle of liquor. When trespassers find his property, be they human or merfolk, he frightens them away to retain his solitude.

A year passes and Connor never comes. Hank is glad he chooses not to indulge in such fickle things as hope. Two winters come and go, his bitterness against entitled creatures who would use his land only growing, until the morning when he hears someone call his name from the shore.

No one uses his name anymore.

He walks out with his shoulders drawn back, ready to shift forms if conflict becomes necessary, a growl already ringing in his skull.

It catches in his throat when he sees the merman he least expected leaning on a rock, holding a faded golden item between both hands. His face is tired, his body thinner than it should be, the visible part of his white tail covered in scrapes and cuts. Hank feels a second wave of guilt mixed with an impossible bloom of warmth at the very center of his chest.

“Connor?”

“I apologize, Hank. I was unable to return within the year, but I believe this is the locket you wanted me to retrieve.”

“Jesus.” Hank doesn’t think about walking down towards Connor, he simply does. His hands are shaking when he kneels, pelt slipping from his shoulders to fall on the back of his calves. “Let me see.”

One round, gold locket covered in small mollusks and algae is placed in Hank’s palm. He uses his hands to brush away part of the growth, not caring if the sharp edges of shells cut into his skin. It’s Cole’s locket, it has to be, but his heart needs confirmation.

It’s the picture inside that causes him to sob. Cole, so young and vibrant, standing with Hank and Jennifer. Jen had always been too human to understand them in full, too comfortable on land to understand the dangers they faced in the water. It’s the reason Hank lost both of them in such a tragic way.

“Hank?”

“I’m – shit, thank you. Connor.” It must be pathetic to choke out the words while looking so completely wrecked, shaking more intensely now than he ever did in withdrawal. He blinks away tears to see the merman watching him closely, too closely, those kind brown eyes too warm and honest for Hank’s jaded heart.

“ _Isumagijunnairvigivinga_?” Connor asks, and it takes Hank a moment to translate in his head. He knows the question is more than what it seems, because Connor would have had to be separated from his pod – his family – to fulfill his promise. Hank feels more guilt, enough to choke him, but he forces it down in order to respond.

“Yeah. Yeah, shit, I forgive you.”

If Hank promises Connor shelter whenever his pod needs it in the future, no one needs to know. If he cries over his locket at night, wearing it every time he’s on land, no one needs to know. He can never get Cole back, but he has a piece of him. It’s one piece more than Hank could ever hope for.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on twitter @xhelasdottir.


End file.
